Last Straw

‎The sun filtered softly through the tall glass windows of the duplex, painting streaks of gold across the living room floor. Larry sat comfortably on the leather couch, phone in hand, finalizing a call with one of his loyal clients. His florist business, though modest, gave him joy and a sense of purpose. “Thank you, Mr. Noah. I’ll have your bouquet delivered by noon,” he said warmly before hanging up. ‎Just then, Beverly descended the polished staircase, her heels clicking against the wooden steps. She found her husband smiling, already stretching out his arms to receive her. ‎“Good morning, love,” Larry whispered as he wrapped her in a tight embrace, showering her with kisses until she laughed. ‎“You’re in a good mood,” Beverly teased, brushing his cheek with her hand. ‎“Because I made breakfast for you,” he replied proudly, raising his voice a little. “Glory!” ‎Their young maid, Glory, emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray neatly arranged with toast, omelets, and freshly squeezed orange juice. They sat together at the dining table, exchanging smiles and quiet laughter as they ate. For a moment, their world felt blissful, simple, and warm. ‎When breakfast was done, Larry kissed her once more. “Have a beautiful day, sweetheart.” ‎Beverly hugged him tightly before heading to work, her perfume lingering in the air. The headquarters of Lawson Enterprises buzzed with its usual rhythm of hurried footsteps and hushed conversations. Beverly walked briskly beside her manager, reviewing details for a major upcoming project. As the CEO! appointed by her mother,she carried herself with elegance and determination. ‎Pushing open the glass doors to her office, Beverly froze. ‎“Mom?” ‎Mrs. Bello Lawson, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, sat comfortably on the leather chair opposite Beverly’s desk. Her presence was unexpectedly unnerving even. “Surprised to see me, Beverly?” Mrs. Lawson’s voice carried authority, laced with sarcasm. “Is that how you welcome your mother, after I’ve been away in Zanzibar?” “Of course not!” Beverly rushed forward and hugged her tightly. “I’ve missed you, Mom. But… what are you doing here?” ‎“Don’t I have the right to visit my own company whenever I choose?” Mrs. Lawson’s eyes narrowed. “Especially when you’re handling a project this large.” ‎“Mom, I can handle things myself,” Beverly replied firmly. “Even Larry agrees with me.” Her mother’s smile turned sharp. “Ah, yes. Larry. so, you came late this morning because you were busy making him breakfast?” Beverly blinked, incredulous. “No, Mom. He wakes me every morning with his alarm and makes breakfast for me.” ‎Mrs. Lawson scoffed. “Pathetic. A man with no real job, nothing but a glorified gardener. Imagine me, Mrs. Lawson, telling my friends that my son-in-law is nothing more than a florist.” ‎“Mom!” Beverly’s tone hardened. “I really have to prepare for my meeting now.” ‎Mrs. Lawson rose sharply, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she stormed out. The office door slammed behind her with such force that Beverly jumped. ‎“My door!” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. ‎ By noon, Beverly was in the conference room, negotiating terms with the clients on their major project. Mr. David, the clients’ manager, shook hands warmly, pleased with her presentation. Just when Beverly felt she had regained her footing, her mother walked in uninvited. “Ah, Mrs. Lawson,” Mr. David greeted, standing politely. ‎Mrs. Lawson slid into a seat beside Beverly, immediately inserting herself into the negotiations. Beverly’s jaw tightened. It was clear her mother wasn’t here as a spectator she wanted control. ‎Later, back in her office, Beverly was packing up for the evening when the door opened again. ‎“Where are you going?” Mrs. Lawson asked, crossing her arms. ‎“Larry is waiting for me. We’re celebrating tonight, we landed the project.” Beverly’s smile faded under her mother’s cold stare. ‎“You can’t go now. I need you to handle another intake project. I require background information from one of my clients.” ‎Beverly sighed, her shoulders heavy. “Fine. I’ll text Larry.” Mrs. Lawson smirked. “Of course. He has no choice. It’s your hard work that puts food on the table in that house.” ‎Beverly froze at the words, her throat tight. But she said nothing. ‎ It was late when she finally returned home, exhausted. As she entered the duplex, Larry met her at the door with open arms, enveloping her in warmth. ‎“You’re finally home,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I got your text. Did you finish everything your mom wanted?” ‎“Yes,” Beverly whispered. “And… she invited us to dinner tomorrow.” ‎Larry pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “She invited me? Are you sure she didn’t just ask for you, and you’re bringing me along, so I won’t feel bad?” ‎Beverly frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? She invited us. Don’t talk like that, like my mom is not a bad person.” Larry gave a half-smile, unconvinced. “If you say so.” ‎“I already told her I wouldn’t come without you,” Beverly added firmly. ‎The tension melted a little as they sat down to dinner. Despite the unspoken weight of Mrs. Lawson’s shadow, they ate together, clung to each other, and ended the night with laughter before retreating to bed.